


The 12 Years of Christmas

by booksandboxsets



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:31:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandboxsets/pseuds/booksandboxsets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different gift each year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the 1st year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

**Author's Note:**

> okay idk how all of these will go, some may be short, some may be slightly longer. also, if you couldn’t tell, i’ve changed days to years. another also, what they give may not be 100% obvious idk. but seeing as i can’t do decent multi-chap, i figured a series of one shots might be fun.

They were sitting on the sofa, both sharing a single blanket and watching one of the many Christmas films being shown. They’d spent the whole day alone, just them.

Both of them agreed that it had been their best Christmas to date – not that Mickey’s previous Christmas’ provided much competition, but nevertheless, Ian had been happy to hear it. Truthfully, Mickey didn’t care much for Christmas; he had been more than relieved when Ian suggested spending the day on their own. Mickey would have gone to the Gallagher’s if Ian had wanted – he got on quite well with them now, after everything. But he was glad they didn’t.

As was Ian.

He had his arm around Mickey, knowing how much the cold bothered the smaller man, and for the first time in a long while, he felt completely at ease. _A Christmas miracle,_ he thought sarcastically.

In all honestly, it really was – he was sitting here holding Mickey Milkovich after having spent Christmas day with him. It was nothing short of a miracle in Ian’s eyes.

“Mick...?”

“Mmm?”

“Thank you.”

Mickey turned towards Ian, a frown starting to make its way onto his face.

“For what?”

“For still being here, I guess.” He shrugged whilst Mickey’s frown got deeper, Ian continued, “it’s just, I wouldn’t have expected you to still be here come Christmas, not after, not after all that I’ve put you through you know?”

The frown suddenly disappeared, Mickey’s eyebrows shooting up into his hairline instead, “are you fucking serious?”

It was Ian’s turn to frown now, but it washed away as Mickey brought a hand up to the redhead’s face, stroking a thumb across his cheek.

“Course I’d still be here Ian.”

Ian’s eyes were slightly watery as he bought his own hand up, removing Mickey’s hand from his cheek and lacing their fingers together, “yeah but still... Thank you. So much.”

“Don’t be an idiot; you don’t have to thank me for anything.”

“C’mon, you know that’s bullshit, would you just accept the goddamned gratitude?”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mickey smiled, “you're welcome.”

Ian gave a satisfied nod, “thank you.”

“Jesus Christ, stop already.”

They both laughed for a bit before settling back into the sofa and the silence.

Just as Mickey was starting to fall asleep, Ian spoke again, “I promise next year will be better Mick, I promise I’ll be better.”


	2. On the 2nd year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highly influenced by that one photo shoot of cameron monaghan.  
> possibly ooc to some? but hey ho

Mickey had never bought anyone a proper Christmas present. Not his mum, not Iggy, not even Mandy, but here he was, about to hand Ian one. Nervous was an understatement.

He had gone shopping for it a few weeks before – the couple hadn’t really bothered with birthdays, but Mickey thought that the gift-giving should start this year; it would be something to carry into the next one. Despite knowing Ian more than anyone, what to get him was a mystery which he couldn't solve. He had all but given up, deciding that he would have to call Mandy and ask for her help (annoyingly, he had wanted to do this alone) – he had been dialling her number when he’d spotted it in a shop window.

He now wondered if it had been a mistake, Ian’s face looking nothing short of heartbroken when he presented the poorly wrapped gift. Mickey bought his free hand up to his mouth, running his thumb across his lip, not quite sure what to do. He had been expecting Ian to break out his perfect smile, not this, why this?

It was soon explained, “why didn’t you tell me?!” Ian was almost hysterical, “I haven’t got you anything now, I thought we weren’t bothering! What the fuck, Mickey?”

Ian punched Mickey’s shoulder lightly as he took the present from him, genuinely annoyed that he wasn’t able to give one back. Ian looked back down at the gift, focussing on it properly... and was unable to contain his laughter.

Instead of wrapping paper, Mickey had used some of the pages from Ian’s old magazines, which apparently hadn’t been chucked out. There were no Rudolph’s, Santa’s or decorated trees; instead the gift was adorned with abs and biceps. Ian was in hysterics, even more so when he finally read the note:

 _' _merry christmas,__  
figured these needed some use, they probably  
feel abandoned ever since you got yourself  
a hot piece of ass.  
love,  
your hot piece of ass.'

When the laughter died down, Mickey went on to assure Ian that he needn’t worry about his lack of gift, “believe me, this is as much of a present for me as it is for you.”

Ian became very curious, very quickly. He didn’t bother going through the theatrics of trying to guess what was inside, neither of them having the patience for that shit right now. Ian ripped straight into it, tearing a man’s toned and oiled body straight in half, revealing what lay inside.

Whatever Ian had been expecting, it wasn’t this: a hooded denim jacket.

He held it up, raising an eyebrow at his other half – Mickey raised his own back, smirking whist doing so.

“Try it on then dipshit, I do actually want to see.”

Ian did as he was told, causing Mickey’s smirk to turn into a full-blown smile.

“Knew it would look fucking fantastic,” he commented, grabbing the collars of the jacket and pulling Ian in for a kiss.


	3. On the 3rd year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to @jedwoodz on twitter for the idea, my choice in gift might be slightly biased lol.  
> this is late & 100% all over the place cos i left it last minute, should have written these in advanced but ofc, nope.

Ian had had Mickey’s present hidden away for ages, and now that it was Christmas morning, he was finally able to give it to him. 

*

It had been the start of the year and, with it, Mickey had developed a new obsession: reading. His new job had allowed him to get an eye test, and apparently the introduction of reading glasses into his life was all the Milkovich had needed to appreciate the worlds within pages.

He’d started off with Ian’s army novels; tales of heroism, sacrifice, and war – whilst he didn’t enjoy all of them, they did give him the long-awaited opportunity to regularly bring up the military to Ian.

The aim of these comments weren’t just to tease the redhead, Mickey mostly hoped that they lessened the feelings of regret Ian had surrounding the army, that they helped him realise that he wasn’t missing out on anything, that his illness hadn’t fucked up the opportunity of a life time, that he had nothing to be ashamed of. Mickey knew that Ian still resented himself slightly, even if it had been years, but Mickey wasn’t going to pretend that he shared those feelings – the fact that Ian could no longer leave Mickey and get himself killed was the silver lining to all that had happened. Of course, Mickey would never be quite so blunt with the other man, he did sympathise, and he got no enjoyment out of Ian’s upset – but that didn’t meant he wouldn’t try to make Ian see that he had dodged a bullet, literally. Everyday Ian proved that he didn't need to be in the army to achieve incredible things, maybe they were slightly different things than he had originally planned, but that didn't make them any less incredible. Sometimes, the path you always thought you were meant to take turns out to be a dead end - Mickey sure as shit never thought that his path was falling in love with Ian Gallagher. So Mickey would do all he could to make Ian see that he hadn't thrown away his dream, he'd just got a new (far safer) one. The comments seemed to be helping; Ian could now watch army films without imagining himself in them – but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t mock Mickey back.

“Ian, I told you Officer’s get shot first, it happens in every single one of these books man.”

“Wasn’t that the same day you told me to fuck off when I suggested reading?”

“Fuck off.”

*

Once the army book supply had been depleted, Mickey had raided the rest of the Gallagher household for reading material – the raid of his own providing nothing.

This meant that he’d gone through a period of reading nothing but young adult novels, handed to him by Debbie, who was completely over the moon by this new development – apparently the ginger Gallagher’s also shared a gene for enthusiasm.

“I wish I had an Augustus,” Debbie sighed, “don’t you wish Ian was more like Augustus?”

“Nah, I kinda prefer my guy alive Debs.”

“Not okay, Mickey,” Debbie replied, looking at him disapprovingly.  

Ian had overheard the conversation whilst coming down the stairs and was quick to join in, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s neck and whispering into his ear, voice laced with sarcasm, “maybe okay can be our always, Mick.”

“Shut up Gallagher,” Mickey swatted Ian’s arms away, “you’ve clearly read it too if you can quote it.”

Ian shrugged, unabashed, “I didn’t cry at it though.”

“MICKEY CRIED ASWELL?”   

*

They were grocery shopping, and whilst Mickey went to look for syrup, Ian had gone off to find the glasses. He returned with a pair that had pink and purple leopard print down their sides.

“Hey, Mick, found you some new glasses”, he said as he placed them onto Mickey’s nose.

Mickey reached up, removing them, “I look shitty in pink.”

*

Ian walked into the bedroom, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, hair still wet... and Mickey didn’t notice. He was engrossed in some crime book of Lip’s, hadn’t put it down since he’d started it – he hadn’t even changed position whilst Ian had been in the shower.

Ian cleared his throat - still, nothing; the blue eyes didn’t even leave the page. Ian walked to the end of the bed and, standing directly in front of his boyfriend, removed the towel, using it to dry his hair a bit – still, nothing. He chucked the towel on to the floor, and now naked with ruffled-up hair, he proceeded to do lunges – still, nothing.

“Oh my god, seriously Mick?!” Ian laughed, nothing but amused. This was adorable.

Mickey jumped, briefly looking up at the idiot who interrupted him before continuing with his chapter, all up until he processed why said interruption had occurred and did a double take, “oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Ian answered, still laughing whilst he got into some sweats, “paper is the new porn.”

*

Ian was at a book store, reading every blurb possible – Mickey should no longer survive on second hand books, he should have some of his own. Christmas could not come quick enough.

*

“Your present,” Ian said with a smile, dropping a quite large and quite heavy rectangular parcel into Mickey’s lap.

Mickey frowned down at it, biting his lip and attempting to guess what was inside – nothing came to mind. Admitting defeat, he tore off the wrapping paper and, met with the sight of books, was even more clueless.

“Books? You got me books?” Mickey looked towards a smiling Ian, slightly nonplussed, “all you do is rip the shit out of me for reading!”

“Precisely, wouldn’t have surprised you if I didn’t would it?” Ian said, his smile somehow becoming even wider.

Mickey shook his head, “you sly motherfucker.”

Ian leant in, kissing Mickey on the cheek, “you’re welcome.”

Mickey was smiling too now, returning his attention to the present, wondering what he’d be starting the New Year reading... and the one after that apparently, the books (there were several) were huge.

“Did you just go for the largest series or something?” he said as he got the first one out of their box, investigating.

Ian chuckled, “partly, I wanted you to be stocked up for a while.” He paused, watching Mickey admire the covers, “I did read the blurb though, they’re the books that _Game of Thrones_ is based on, figured you might like ‘em, books are meant to be better than the screen right?”

“Yeah...  hmm, ‘ _A Song of Ice and Fire’,_ ” already wanting to begin, Mickey opened up to the first page. Ian took that as his cue; ruffling Mickey’s hair before getting up to make some coffee, grabbing his medication and Mickey’s reading glasses on the way back to bed.


	4. On the 4th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

They each had a stocking at the end of their bed; one had Mickey Mouse printed all over it whilst the other was just orange. Both of them had been highly amused with themselves.

Ian had decided a few weeks ago that they were going to do this, the stockings. He’d had a massive speech planned, listing all of his reasons for wanting this to become a ‘thing’. He needn't have bothered, Mickey had agreed as soon as he had suggested it. So, here they were, both waking up to a small bundle of presents at their feet.

*

Ian had got up to fill Mickey’s stocking, not realising that he had woke his boyfriend in the process. The older man had humoured him, pretending to be asleep throughout the ordeal – all up until he heard Ian rummaging through his own stocking, which Mickey had filled a few hours before.

“Oi, Santa Claus”, Ian jumped back from the bed, seemingly trying to put as much distance between himself and his stocking as he could, “you’re meant to be giving presents not looking through your own.”

“And you’re meant to be asleep.”

“Whatever, come here.”

Ian did as he was told, crawling back into bed and wrapping an arm around his partner.

*

Mickey was now waking up for a third time - and again, it was Ian who had woke him. Ian, who was overly-excited and shaking his boyfriend quite roughly. The nerd already had his stocking in hand, a large grin plastered over his face.

“Merry Christmas, Mick.”

“Seriously, it’s like you’re twelve years old, what time is it?”

“6.”

Mickey groaned, burying his head back into the pillows.

“You really do suck sometimes, you know that?”

“Yup,” Ian replied, unfazed, “but my great presents will make up for it, c’mon, you’re not even slightly curious?”

Mickey couldn’t deny it, he was, so somewhat reluctantly he sat up, retrieving his own stocking from the end of the bed.


	5. On the 5th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise in advance for this one, idk what it is - it's hardly worth posting cos it's so short & dumb but it's all i have time for

The Gallagher household was packed full: full of people, full of laughter, full of joy. Nobody was feeling cramped, but they were all feeling hungry.

Luckily, the dinner was being dished up. Ian had been given that duty, and was currently putting the potatoes onto the plates.

They were all taking their seats, one being left in between Mickey and Carl for Ian. Debbie was just taking her seat on the other side of the Milkovich when Ian started to bring over the meals, Fiona laying down a cracker for everyone in his wake.

Once they were all laid out, it didn’t take anyone very long to notice who had the plate with the biggest pile of food on, “IAN! Just because he sucks your meat doesn’t mean he should get the most meat now!”


	6. On the 6th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

“Mick, get up, Fiona’s expecting us.”

Mickey burrowed deeper into his duvet pit, sniffling to himself – he was not leaving this bed for anything.

Ian sighed; Mickey had a way of both charming and irritating him simultaneously. It was a gift, truly. He crawled onto the bed, lying down next to Mickey and pulling the covers away from his face, “come on, Debbie’s made pudding.”

“Well, tell Debs to save me some,” Mickey replied in a nasally voice, turning his back to Ian.  

Ian sighed again, crawling over Mickey’s body so that they were facing each other once more. Mickey rolled his eyes; Ian’s relentlessness both charmed and irritated him. It was a gift, truly.

“You know that if I go on my own, she’ll just come here and get you herself right?”

Mickey groaned, knowing full-well that Ian wasn’t kidding, “fucking Gallagher’s.”

“Yeah, we’re awful”, Ian pulled the duvet down even further, trying to encourage Mickey out of bed. For once, however, Mickey was refusing to give into the redhead, pulling them back up to his neck. “I’m staying here Ian; I don’t care if there’s pudding.”

“Mick, it’s Christmas, we can’t not go.”

Mickey shot Ian an accusatory glare, “uh-uh I’m not the bad guy here, _you_ did this.”

“How did _I_ do this?” Ian gestured down at Mickey’s curled-up form, “my idea of making you stay in bed is very differe– ”

Ian was cut off by Mickey erupting into a full-blown sneezing fit, finally having to sit up to grab some tissues. “ _You_ did this because you’ve given me your shitty bug from last week,” he informed Ian before blowing his nose.

“Oh.” Ian’s whole face dropped, he looked like he’d just been accused of committing the worst crime imaginable, “sorry, I just thought you didn’t wanna go or something.”

Mickey frowned, hand gesturing everywhere, “why wouldn’t I wanna go?”

Ian shrugged, “JimmyJackSteve’s parents are there, and by that I mean Ned. Plus, there’s an excess of babies this year – Kev and V’s, Fi’s. It’s gonna be so loud man.”

“Sounds more like you don’t want to go,” Mickey replied with a laugh, “Ned I was actually looking forward to seeing, was planning to piss in his gravy. And I can handle babies; babies however, cannot handle this illness,” he gave another large sniff for emphasis. “So there’s another reason for my ass remaining here.”

“Yeah, yeah, you shouldn’t go out in the cold,” Ian actually started tucking Mickey in, an idea starting to take place “in fact, seeing as I bought this illness down upon you, I should really stay here too, look after you.”

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up, a grin forming “oh, really? You want to look after me, huh? Not just using it as an excuse to bail?”

Ian bought a hand to his chest, feigning offense, “me? Bail? Never.”

“Oh, then don’t let me stop you from going. I’ll be fine.”

“I really don’t think you will be, I think you need me.”

“I always need you, but that’s not the point – you’re using my sickness as your get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Ian wasn’t so quick to reply, years down the line and Mickey could still turn his insides to liquid with a few words. It was pathetic really, as was Ian’s desire to babysit his boyfriend. Mickey was partly right, the older man’s illness was the reason he had needed to get out of Christmas, but then even if he had wanted to go, the chances of Ian leaving Mickey behind would’ve been slim. “So you’re saying that you don’t want me here to warm a hot water bottle and make you soup?”

Mickey wasn’t going to deny it, having Ian here at his beck-and-call would unquestionably make him feel less like a heap of snot-adorned tissues – his presence could improve pretty much anything. So he kept silent, not wanting Debbie to accuse him of swaying her brother’s decision whilst also not wanting to say anything that would change it.

Ian took the silence as confirmation that his company was wanted, and kissed Mickey’s cheek before climbing out of the bed. “I’ll make the soup then.”

 


	7. On the 7th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

They were driving to Mandy’s after having spent the day at the Gallagher’s – the two Milkovich siblings and their redhead had plans for Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve. They also had plans to do sweet fuck all during the days in between. Mickey could not wait to get there; mostly because Ian had decided that a long, late-night drive was the perfect time to belt out every Christmas song known to man.

It had been cute at first; a pretty-tipsy Ian putting on a voice for Frosty the Snowman and fake crying when it reached the part in the song where Frosty ran off to melt, replacing ‘Santa’ with ‘Mickey’ whilst singing Santa Baby, winking as he dreamt of a White Christmas – Mickey had wished he wasn’t driving, it was the only thing enabling him from recording the masterpiece. Mandy probably would have traded in her actual present for that video. Since then however, Ian had wished it could be Christmas every day, rocked around the Christmas tree, announced that Santa Claus is coming to town... and now, now it was getting kind of irritating. In fact, Mickey was starting to regret assigning himself as the driver; he’d probably be sleeping in the passenger seat right about now if Ian had remained sober instead of him.

“Alright, pretty sure that’s enough now,” Mickey interjected before Ian broke out into another one. As expected, his comment was met with a shaking head, just as it had been the last few attempts.

Ian giggled, running a finger down Mickey’s cheek, who responded by taking a hand off of the wheel to swat it away. The chuckling redhead grabbed Mickey’s hand before he could put it back onto the piece of plastic, lacing their fingers together. The older man didn’t pull his hand away, and his thumb automatically betrayed him – apparently it was programmed to go into a stroking motion whenever it was near to a certain idiot’s freckles. He did ask Ian what he was doing though.

Ian leant across to the driver’s side, nibbling Mickey’s ear and whispering into it, “I’m serenading you baby.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but could not prevent the corner of his mouth from uplifting slightly – another programmed response to Ian Gallagher.

“How is that any different to what you’ve already been doing?”

Ian pouted and puppy-eyed, “I thought you were liking my Christmas musical.”

“Yeah, six songs ago.”

Ian pondered that for a second, shrugged, and informed Mickey once more that “I’m serenading YOU.” He highlighted the last point by poking Mickey in the arm.

“So I’m guessing this one-man Christmas musical has no interval then?”

Ian bought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of Mickey’s (and also hiccupping onto it) before beginning his next number.

“II-III-III-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, DON’T WANT A LOT FORRR CHRISTMAS, THERE IS JUST ONE THING I NEEEED, I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE PRESENTS UNDERNEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE-“


	8. On the 8th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

The Gallagher’s and Milkovich’s were out in the snow, and it was war.

They had spit up into teams, and both parties were taking this snowball fight very seriously. Ian, Mickey, Mandy, Debbie, Kev and his twins were on one team, and they were currently trying to fix their snow wall, which acted as protection against the snowballs being launched at them by the others.

“HEAD SHOT” Carl announced, as if Debbie wasn’t aware that the heap of ice had hit her square in the mouth.

“He is so dead,” she informed everyone before charging towards him, scooping up a bunch of the pre-made snowballs.

It had been going on like this for the better part of an hour, and with no end in sight, Mickey was starting to crave warmth again, his scarf no longer helping against the cold. He needed to wrap this up, asap.

“’Aight, plan time.” He grabbed the attention of his team, who hit pause on the wall repair and turned towards him. “I don’t know about you lot, but I want a hot drink and a blanket, so you up for getting this shit done?”

He could see the wave of relief pass through everyone; they’d clearly all been thinking the same thing but had opted against voicing it. He continued, “Debbie’s got the right idea – we can’t just hide here, we’ll be doing this all night.”

“The others aren’t gonna back down, even if we step out from behind the Great Wall of Kevin SnowBall.”

“Jesus Christ, stop calling it that.” Kev did have a point though; the other team weren’t going to give in. Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. It was Ian who voiced an idea first however, ROTC days kicking into gear, “we just have to catch them by surprise, do something they don’t expect and piss them off. Then we can laugh, they can sulk and that’s that.” He knew for sure that if they just did something Lip hadn’t thought of, it would be over – outsmart the genius and you’re sorted.

Mickey rubbed his hands together, both for warmth and because they were finally getting somewhere, “what’s the plan of attack then tough guy?”

“Each of us takes one of them out by filling their hood with a bunch of snow and pulling it up, make sure to hold it onto their head for as long as you can too, until they surrender.”

“I call Lip,” Mandy replied instantly, already gathering a heap of snow. She was going to enjoy this; hopefully it would damage some of his smart-ass brain cells.

Kev was the next one to pipe in, “I’ll take V.”

Soon enough, they had all been assigned their victims and were ready to charge. “1... 2... 3... GO GO GO!”

They all raced off, eyes locked on their given targets – all apart from Mickey, who had other ideas. Ian was ahead of him, running towards Fiona, all game-face and war cries, but he would not meet his destination; a little blue-eyed, black-haired man (who was supposed to be on his team) had decided that his ginger giant was a much more satisfying recipient of the snow-hood than JimmyJackSteve.

Mickey ran after Ian, and just before the latter reached his older sister the Milkovich attacked, jumping up onto Ian’s back and wrapping his legs around his waist. He simultaneously dumped the snow into Ian’s hood, bringing it up and onto his head, wrapping his arms around it in order to keep Ian encased in the cold, cotton prison (and as a way to try and stay upright).

The piggy-back did not last long, Ian unable to maintain his balance and bringing the pair down into a pile of snow. Somehow, the fall had not loosened Mickey’s grip, and the snow was now dripping down the back of Ian’s jumper. Ian flailed at the coldness, attempting to head butt Mickey with no successful results, “you’re going to give me fucking brain freeze, quit it!”

Ian’s shouts did nothing but spur on Mickey’s maniacal laughter, “'until they surrender'; that was the instruction you gave me I believe.” The reminder that Mickey had used his own plan against him was the bit of motivation Ian had needed to think past the snowy entrapment, and he rolled off to the side, forcing Mickey to let go. The Gallagher sat up, pulling down his hood and shaking the remainder of the snow out of his hair. He glared across at Mickey, who looked like he had just won Gold at the Olympics.

“Traitor,” Ian whispered, trying and failing to put malice behind the word. “That was an act of treason.”

Mickey sat up as well, finally able to contain his amusement – although the grin would not vanish. He arched an eyebrow, “not used to getting attacked from behind are we?”

Ian flipped Mickey off, swinging his leg out to kick at the other man's, “I can’t fucking believe you. Actually, scratch that, yes I can. Should’ve seen this shit coming from a mile away.”

Mickey shrugged in a kind of ‘what’re-you-gonna-do’ fashion, because seriously, Ian should have suspected the betrayal. Ian did know what he was going to do now though, pulling Mickey towards him so that he could close the distance between their lips. As Mickey responded, running a hand through Ian’s now wet hair, the younger man reached to the side, picking up a small mound of snow and shoving it down the back of Mickey’s top. The sound Mickey made was a sound probably only dogs could hear.

“Yeah, that’s what you get.”


	9. On the 9th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

Mickey walked through the door, one hand in Yevgeny’s and holding a giant bag in the other. He and Ian had the kid for Christmas this year, giving Svetlana and Nika a break for once. It had mostly been Ian’s idea; the idiot had even rented a Santa Claus costume for later on (despite being told that Yev no longer believed in him). Mickey was excited about it though; really excited actually, it would be nice. 

Ian heard the front door shut and practically skipped out of the bedroom – as soon as Yev spotted him he let go of his father’s hand and ran towards his other one, screaming as Ian lifted him up and spun him around. Mickey became slightly less excited – they were his two favourite guys, but put them together and there was never a moment of quiet. The sight of them never failed to make him happy though, so he shouldn’t complain, the headaches were worth it.

After greeting Yev, Ian turned his attention to Mickey, giving the shorter man a “welcome back” and a quick peck on the lips. This was shortly followed by Yevgeny’s “ewwww”-ing, a joke which apparently never got old.

“Yeah, yeah, alright kid,” Mickey said as he ruffled his giggling child’s hair and dumped the bag onto the sofa.

Ian nodded towards it, “what’s in that?”

“Lana and Nika’s contribution to the present pile,” Mickey replied as he started unloading their gifts, putting them under the tree with all the rest.

“Aw that was nice of them!”

Yevgeny and Mickey looked towards one another, smirking – a look which did not go unnoticed by Ian, whose head begun turning between the two Milkovich’s, looking like a giant ginger cat being teased with a piece of string. “What do you two know that I don’t?!”

Mickey patted his partner on the chest, “you’ll see man, you’ll see.”

*

They’d got through most of the presents now. Thankfully, Yevgeny had been beyond happy with his new bike, and the helmet fit him fine; although he was now refusing to take it off.

“I’m a red head too now,” the child beamed, referring to the colour of the helmet and pointing at Ian – who beamed right back

His smile dropped as opened his own gift however; Ian’s face slowly morphing into a frown as he lifted the onesie out of the wrapping paper.

“Mick, what the hell?”

“YOU SAID A BAD WORD!”

“Sorry Yev... Mick, what is this?”

Mickey had been laughing from the moment Ian picked up the gift Svetlana had got for him, but now he was in stitches.

“Ian... Ian, I wish, I wish you could see your face,” he said between bursts of laughter, which Yev had joined in with now.

“MICKEY, WHEN WILL THIS NICKNNAME DIE?”

“Ian it’s been almost a decade, I don’t think it’s ever dying,” Mickey replied, still laughing.

“I guess not,” Ian agreed with a look of resignation, finally accepting his fate. He sighed, putting the onesie on over the top of the Santa outfit, causing Mickey and Yevgeny to laugh even harder. He then walked over to the mirror, and couldn’t help but laugh along with them after seeing his reflection – he was dressed as a giant carrot. Lana had even gone to the trouble of stitching ‘carrot boy’ onto the onesie in a darker shade of orange.

“Guess this is karma for when you got me that Mickey Mouse outfit for my birthday a few years back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so technically they didn’t give each other anything, but Mickey was the bringer of the gifts so... it counts


	10. On the 10th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blerg this whole thing is weak (spesh the ending) but trying to think of something everyday is proving difficult lmao

They’d decided to get a dog.

The idea had been toyed with before; they’d just never really got round to doing it. Now though, they were equipped with leads, collars, food... everything. Apart from the dog.

This is why they were currently at a shelter, moving between each dog to see which one they were going to bring home. Ian had the most say in that, his Christmas present being the choice of dog, with Mickey’s present being the naming of it – they figured it may save them some arguments. Plus, they’d spent quite a lot on the new addition to their family, so giving each other a non-physical gift seemed like a good plan.

They had petted and played with the majority of the dogs here and Mickey was getting slightly agitated about Ian’s refusal to pick one. “None of them feel like _ours_ yet Mick, we have to wait.”

Mickey crossed his arms, wondering if they’d ever find Ian’s perfect puppy, “onto the next one then.”

This was when one of the shelter’s volunteers came over, all chipper and lip gloss, “Sir’s, you’ve been here quite a while now, y’all need any help?”

“Nah, we’re good tha-“

Mickey stopped abruptly as Ian pinched him, and Mickey couldn’t help but resent the woman who was now on the receiving end of Ian’s megawatt smile “yes actually, are these all the puppies in the shelter or do you have anymore?”

The woman looked Ian up and down, flicking her hair before answering his question, which only served to increase Mickey’s ever-growing dislike towards her. “There’s a few more in the garden, follow me.”

They were lead outside, Ian crouching down to welcome the animals, continuing on with his mission to find _their_ dog. Mickey had joined in at first, but had then opted to stand by and watch, wait until Ian announced his choice – he didn’t want to end up getting attached to one of the canine’s Ian deemed not- _theirs_ -enough.

The volunteer worker seemed to think that this lack of involvement from Mickey equalled up to a lack of interest, and took it upon herself to point it out.

“You know, a dog isn’t just for Christmas.”

Mickey slowly looked towards her, eyebrows and disbelief inching up, “shit, really? Yo, Ian, you hear that? We still have to look after the dog when Christmas is over.”

Ian sighed, intervening before they were told that they weren’t fit to adopt. He walked up to Mickey, small, brown puppy in arms, “what’s her name then?”

Mickey reached over, stroking the dog between the ears, biting his bottom lip whist he decided.

“Arya.”

“As in Arya Stark?”

Instead of looking off to the side and trying to deny it like Ian thought he would, the blue eyes looked straight into the green ones, “yeah so? She’s fucking awesome.”

“Sometimes I really do regret buying you those books.”


	11. On the 11th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last minute xmas shopping means last minute one shot

Mickey woke up confused and alone. Christmas morning never included an empty bed; not when there were stockings to open. Frowning, he got up, putting some clothes on before leaving the bedroom in search of Ian.

He found his idiot in the lounge, holding mistletoe above his head and giggling to himself whilst the dog licked his face.

Mickey looked on for a bit, smiling to himself. Once a good five minutes had passed without Ian noticing him, Mickey cleared his throat, raising his hands and announcing his presence “didn’t mean to intrude.”

Ian whipped his head around, pushing Arya off of him and moaning, “NO, why are you up?”

“It is what people tend to do in the morning.”

“I was meant to you wake up though – with this,” Ian held up the mistletoe, sighing to himself, “I got it for you.”

Mickey smirked, “Not for the dog?”

Ian dropped his head into his hands, another groan escaping him, “no, not for the dog.”

“Sure looked like it.”

Ian shot up, making his way over to Mickey, holding the mistletoe up above them once they were face to face. “Look like it now?” Ian said as he leant in – only to be pushed backwards.

“Whoa there, dog slobber.”

“Oh shut the fuck up Mickey,” Ian grabbed the front of Mickey's tank top, pulling the smaller man towards him.


	12. On the 12th year of Christmas my true love gave to me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda late but i'll excuse myself bc christmas aha.

They were wrapped up in sheets, enjoying some post-coital Christmas bliss. They were squashed together, limbs entwined, refusing to give each other space despite the heat. They’d already taken advantage of the far bigger bed, but right now, they would barely need a single.

They’d gone away for Christmas this year, left the family politics behind them to relish in one another (and the lack of snow, something which Mickey in particular was enjoying).

A Christmas vacation, neither of them could think of a more perfect gift; so they’d bought tickets months in advanced, and a week before Christmas they’d left the dog with Fiona, packed their clothes, toiletries and stocking fillers and swapped home for holiday. It was probably the best decision they had made in a long while.

A decision which had led them to this bed on Christmas morning, both a good kind of breathless, with Ian running his hand up and down Mickey’s arm.

“Let’s do this every year,” Ian muttered into Mickey’s hair.

Mickey sighed, “man I wish, don’t think the family would let us though.”

“Screw the family; it’s their problem if their kids or demanding job doesn’t allow them this luxury.”

“Mandy has neither of those things – and she’d probably go scrape up one of my brothers and get them to stick a few ounces of coke in our suitcases if we told her that we’re leaving her every year, can’t leave the country if you’re arrested on drug charges.”

“Mandy wouldn’t even notice,” Ian let out a short laugh, “she’s still in her several-year-long honeymoon phase.”

Mickey trailed his finger up and down Ian’s chest, “yeah cos we’re so much better.” Mickey looked up at his redhead, raising his eyebrows and smirking. “You basically just suggested an annual honeymoon.”

Ian laughed, “touché... it’s not a bad suggestion though.”  

“It is one of your better ones.”

“As opposed to what, my bad ones? I don’t have bad suggestions.”

“Fuck off yes you do, what about when you suggested that we both run some marathons?”

“Health benefits, it wasn’t a bad one.”

“Okay then, when you and Mandy suggested binge watching _The Vampire Diaries_?”

“Hot actor benefits, next.”

“Less sugary cereals?”

“As I’ve said, health benefits.”

“Movember?”

“Can’t slate charity Mick – besides, yours didn’t look half ba-”

Mickey gave up, grabbing the back of Ian’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. He’d rather Ian’s lips were being used for something that wasn’t excuse-making, and this was what they did best. Ian followed suit, moving his hand up into Mickey’s hair before positioning himself on top of the Milkovich once more.

“Merry Christmas, Mick” Ian said against Mickey’s mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Ian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that the 'finale' to all of these was basically just some short, dumb anti-climatic dialogue, but i want to thank you lovely people who have read up to this point and survived my minimal-word-count fluff aha.  
> hope you had a wonderful christmas/whatever it is you celebrate and that you have a happy new year. ♥


End file.
